Drew feigned interest in the standard diner menu as the
boisterous atmosphere returned to the diner. He could feel
the guys from Corinth staring him down from the opposite side of the room—could
practically hear them plotting their next moves—and wondered when they were going to
get this thing started already.

“So, what looks good to you guys?” Drew asked loudly.

“Nothing. This place is a dive, man,” Dirk replied in a booming
voice.

Jason hung his head, which just irritated Drew. He had known that Jason
wouldn’t love being pulled into this without his knowledge, but he had assumed that
once he was in, he would have Drew’s back. Instead, he was sitting there looking
guilty as sin. The last thing he wanted Samson and his pals to know was that one of
Drew’s right-hand men was actually a dissenter to this whole
plan.

Drew was just about to say something to Jason when he saw Samson make his move
out of the corner of his eye. He walked away from the rest of his friends, making
placating hand motions like he was telling a bunch of rabid
dogs to stay. As he headed down the aisle between booths toward Drew, Drew warned
his friends.

“Here it comes,” he said through his teeth.

They all struck poses of complete innocence as Samson finally
arrived.

“What are you doing here, man?” Samson asked, crossing his arms over his
Corinth jacket.

“Getting something to eat,” Drew replied nonchalantly.
“Actually, the confections in the case over there look simply
scrumptious,” he joked, lifting his chin toward the glass
dessert case. “What do you recommend?”

“I recommend you get up outta that seat and walk your ass out the door before
you get yourself killed,” Samson said acerbically.

Clay and Dirk snorted. Jason shifted his seat, slumping and bringing his hand
up to his forehead like he was wondering how he’d gotten there. Drew simply stared
up at Samson.

“Wow. What happened to the always cordial and
conciliatory Samson Hill I’ve grown to know and love?” Drew
asked sarcastically.

Drew glanced past Samson at the back of the restaurant. There were more guys
standing now, glowering in his direction. Samson did have a
point. If this went down the way he knew it would, he was going to end up
pulverized. But backing down now would be even worse. Backing
down now would make him a coward.

“Well, you make a compelling argument,” Drew said finally.
“But I think we’ll stay.”

“No one wants you here, man,” Samson said loudly, causing the noise level in
the diner to dim slightly.

“I have to disagree with you there, Samson!”

Crystal Marx sauntered up behind Samson and sat down next to Drew,
brazenly lifting her leg and hooking it over his, since there
technically wasn’t room for her on the small bench with him and Jason. Drew nearly
balked at the totally daring and inappropriate move but
managed to keep a straight face. Demure, Crystal was not, and
today it served his purposes. He wanted to antagonize these guys,
and from the sudden murmur in the back of the room, he could tell that her move had
done just that.

“How you doing, Drew?” She asked, throwing her arm around his shoulder to
better get her balance. “Welcome to Corinth.”

Behind Samson, Drew saw the colossus that was Tank Langford
rise out of his chair for the first time. His expression was beyond
belligerent. Drew swallowed back a sudden lump in his throat
but kept right on with his plan.

“Thanks, Crystal. At least someone around here is
accommodating,” he said, smiling up at Samson.

“Yeah, well, Crystal’s never been known for her
discretion,” Samson said, his expression darkening, as Tank
slowly walked up behind him.

Crystal laughed and rolled her eyes. “Ouch. That hurt,” she said flatly,
making it clear that it didn’t hurt at all.

“Crystal,” Tank said, his voice rumbling. “Get away from these
guys.”

Drew glanced across the table at Clay, who raised his eyebrows with
interest.